


protein dream

by snooki



Category: K.A.R.D (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Is It Normal Bro Texting or Is It Sexting, Kim Namjoon | RM Has a Big Dick, Language Barrier, M/M, Minor Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin, Namjoon's a Himbosexual, Namjoon's in BTS but BM was never in KARD, Nipple Play, Personal Trainer Big Matthew, Size Difference, Size Kink, Small Penis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22410988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snooki/pseuds/snooki
Summary: Namjoon may be a romantic, wanting to whisk a dazzling and intelligent young man away for a weekend and kiss him on the steps of the nearest palace, but RM can’t date anyone, let alone someone male. Namjoon meets plenty of guys, but he can’t exactly propose to any of them underneath a staggering, majestic tree that somehow perfectly symbolizes their relationship, so he tries not to let himself want.Then he meets Big Matthew, the living human embodiment of an extra-large meat lover's pizza.
Relationships: Kim Namjoon | RM/Matthew Kim | BM
Comments: 368
Kudos: 1619





	protein dream

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for day 7 of the [Beta Delta Nu Fest](http://twitter.com/betadeltanu). 
> 
> this is self-indulgence in its purest form
> 
> thx to [aggravated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aggravated) for the beta

Kim Namjoon doesn’t believe in fairy tales or fate.

Even though he lives what many would consider to be a charmed life (daesangs by the dozen, fans by the millions, the six most talented bandmates a guy could ask for), he’s never chalked it up to coincidence or destiny. He got where he is today because he worked hard and sunk his teeth into an ambition and refused to let go, not because some supernatural force decided was going to become Korea’s new It Boy. 

Well, metaphorically speaking. He literally got where he is today because Jimin wanted to go to some bougie gym in Los Angeles and told Namjoon it was a “wellness center,” so now here Namjoon is, waiting for Byungwoo, his personal trainer, to come on short notice and wishing he had ignored Jimin’s KaKaoTalk messages.

Fate has nothing on Park Jimin.

Namjoon watches Jimin merrily sweat through lunges and squats, aided by his own trainer. He’ll probably finish his own workout ages before Namjoon and then whine until Namjoon cuts his short so they can go shopping on Rodeo Drive. 

His phone buzzes and it’s Byungwoo, but he’s not calling to deliver a reassurance that he’s five minutes away or instructions to get started on weights. He’s got a family emergency, the circumstances of which actually justify the use of the word ‘emergency,’ and he’s packing now to try to catch the soonest flight to Incheon out of LAX. He’s so sorry, but he has to leave the tour early. 

Namjoon sends his sympathies, then calls Sejin to arrange for Byungwoo’s flight. He can do that, at least, to alleviate the stress that cracked Byungwoo’s voice. He wishes there was more he could do. 

The gym is empty and technically closed to the public right now, a perk of global superstardom that’s actually a double-edged sword: Namjoon likes going to gyms because he likes seeing regular people going about their routines, pushing themselves to excel.

He also likes gyms because of one major downside to Namjoon’s supposedly fairy tale life. Namjoon may be a romantic, wanting to whisk a dazzling and intelligent young man away for a weekend and kiss him on the steps of the nearest palace, but RM can’t date anyone, let alone someone male. Namjoon meets plenty of guys, but he can’t exactly propose to any of them underneath a staggering, majestic tree that somehow perfectly symbolizes their relationship, so he tries not to let himself want.

He likes the gym because it’s the one place that he lets himself _look_ , admire men in all their shapes and sizes and overly-macho grunts. 

His therapist would say it’s not healthy, but Namjoon _is_ spending more time working out because of it, so he’d like to argue it’s actually extremely healthy.

Namjoon approaches a giant exercise machine, all bars and pads and weights. He picked it because it was the farthest away from Jimin and because he’s never seen one like it before. He’s sort of staring it down, trying to figure out how he’s supposed to interact with it (it kind of looks like it could eat him) when he hears a deep, booming voice say:

“Bro, need help with that?”

A small mountain is jogging over to him, a mountain with a kind-looking face and chiseled jawline and massive arms exposed by a STAFF t-shirt with its sleeves ripped off that’s definitely not company-approved. 

The mountain is holding out a fist, and Namjoon stares at it before reaching out with his own to bump it, feeling like he just got hit by a truck. There’s just so much _man_ in front of him. The t-shirt is cut so low on the sides that he can see where the man’s obliques flex and his nipple peeks out like it’s shy. The little silver barbell pierced through it winks at him in the light.

“Ah…” Namjoon struggles to get his brain to focus and switch into English. “Yes. I don’t know how to use it, I’m afraid.” He grins sheepishly up at the man, and woof, this guy has a few inches on Namjoon.

“I don’t tell most of our clients this, but you seem like a trustworthy guy, I’mma be honest with you,” the man starts. 

_You have never met me before in your life_ , Namjoon thinks, _and yet somehow I believe you._

“This machine?” The guy shrugs. “Won’t help you. It’s a ten thousand dollar version of something you can do with some free weights and a personal trainer. Nah, nah, I know what you’re thinking,” he grins, “you’re like, I don’t have a personal trainer. And I’m like, you do today, homie.”

Namjoon can feel his face freeze into his Interview Smile, where he’s not sure what to say and English feels a little clumsy in his mouth. The man seems to realize his confusion and retreats a little, shrinking into himself. He’s still huge, but it feels more manageable now.

“My bad, my bad. I’m one of the trainers here. Big Matthew,” he says with a smile. He turns to show Namjoon the back of his shirt – scrawled on the back in chunky, hand-written letters is “BM 92” like a basketball jersey. “It’s cool if you just call me Matthew, though. Or BM. Big Matthew’s like, my brand. Because I’m big, and I’ll help you get big too, you feel me?”

Namjoon nods. “Yeah, you are big,” he says, as if that’s just something you say heterosexually to your fellow heterosexual men. 

“Right?” Matthew grins. His gaze drops to Namjoon’s chest and he steps forward, assessing. “You‘re pretty big too, though, bro. You got some big pecs.” He frames Namjoon’s pectorals in his wide, warm hands and Namjoon blushes as he’s prodded and squeezed by a cute stranger with apparently no sense of boundaries for a celebrity client. “Yeah, dude. Like, _sizable_. Come on, man, let’s get going.” 

He tugs Namjoon by the forearm to the free weights and for some reason Namjoon just follows this large, strange man. Namjoon allows Matthew to move him this way and that, sending him through a series of exercises.

Matthew is _very_ hands-on. It seems like he has to adjust Namjoon’s form every time he tries a new exercise. Namjoon gets used to broad hands repositioning his hips, pushing on his shoulder, tugging his thigh. 

After they’re done and Namjoon is suitably aching, Matthew gives him his contact information in case he wants to schedule more sessions when he’s back in LA. It’s actually the best workout he’s had in months, Namjoon thinks to himself. Matthew is attentive and sympathetic when Namjoon pants that he’s exhausted, but somehow he always cajoles him into pushing himself a little further. 

_(“I can’t do any more,” Namjoon heaves, lifting the dumbbells for what he hopes is the last time. “Damn, bro, you’re just gonna lie to me like that? That’s cold,” Matthew replies with big sad eyes, and suddenly Namjoon realizes he has the strength for another ten reps.)_

He concedes to Jimin on the ride back to the hotel that, okay, yes, the gym had been nice. And yes, Jimin, it is better to use his energy productively instead of writing half-finished poems about how bonsai trees are a metaphor for the superego, thanks for the reminder.

Namjoon showers and flops onto his bed. He opens a bottle of pinot grigio. He’s got a rare free night in Los Angeles ahead of him before they hit the road again tomorrow to continue their tour. He’s in one of the music capitals of the world and he’s got an incredible list of contacts of people he could meet up with to write with, make plans with, collaborate with. He could go out with Jimin and Taehyung and dance the night away on strobed dancefloors then meet a gorgeous celebrity and possibly get laid. He could change his career and his life tonight with a single phone call.

Instead, he spends the entire evening scrolling through Matthew’s Instagram.

It’s quite an experience.

Matthew is definitely dedicated to his brand and his career. #BMMakeItBang is strewn all over his captions and he posts at least once a day, sometimes following themed days: Motivated Monday, Thankful Tuesday, Winning Wednesday, Swaggy Saturday. 

Namjoon gulps when he scrolls past a close-up shot of just Matthew’s chest, bulging and muscled. A thick chain necklace dangles between his pectorals, which are so round and full that he almost creates the illusion of cleavage. He learns when he reads the caption that this was posted in celebration of Tiddy Thursday, which Matthew seems to celebrate religiously every week with a picture of his pecs. Sometimes they’re taken from the sides, sometimes from above, but he never skips a Thursday. His Instagram feed is dotted with pictures of his assets. Namjoon learns that _both_ nipples are pierced, which he didn’t need to know but now he can’t imagine living without that knowledge.

Namjoon keeps scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling. There’s kind of a hypnotic pattern to it.

Mirror selfie of Matthew at the gym, massive arms bulging with veins, captioned: “last workout of july. august about to be different gains 👊 #BMMakeItBang”

Shot of Matthew leaning shirtless and sweaty against a wall, holding a skateboard, hair dyed green at the tips, captioned: “remember american dragon jake long? this is him now. feel old yet?”

Selfie stick shot of Matthew and a bunch of other equally gorgeous, equally ripped people standing in front of lush foliage, captioned: “SQUADDDDDD AT THE BOTANICAL GARDENS 🌱🌿🌳”

Boomerang of Matthew dabbing on a beautiful beach during sunset, captioned: “2017 main goal. exclude all negativity from my atmosphere 💪”

This is the point at which Namjoon realizes he’s scrolled through two years’ worth of photos and literal hours have passed.

Namjoon shifts position, groaning as his joints crack and his muscles ache from staying in one position for so long. He wishes he had Matthew’s big, capable hands on him to massage the tension out, which he thinks is a pretty wild thing to pop into his brain until he glances over and realizes he’s completely drained the bottle of pinot grigio, and then he thinks, _yeah, sounds about right._

Matthew’s hair color changes constantly in the photos but his enthusiasm stays the same, seemingly hype for everything from fresh kicks to CBD gummies to visiting his little sister at college in New York. 

There are, to Namjoon’s count, exactly 47 photos of Matthew in nothing but a variety of grey sweatpants tugged down past his v-lines, the fabric clinging enough to show the slightest hint of shaft between his legs, the waistband low enough that a few dark hairs are visible. 

So, honestly, Namjoon’s not responsible for what he does next.

\-----------------

Namjoon wakes up with a mouth tasting like ass and a stomach that feels like it’s full of battery acid. He checks the clock and sees he’s only slept for a few hours (jet lag and hangover seemingly conspiring to absolutely destroy his sleep schedule) and he’s pouring sweat. It feels like wine is seeping out of his pores.

Wiping the drool off his face, Namjoon rolls over to see a second, half-empty bottle of pinot grigio by the bed, which is just truly excessive for a night spent alone at the hotel. _Why did I do that?_ He wonders as he grabs his phone to see if he has any texts. _Why did I drink that much?_

 _Oh,_ he thinks when he sees a new message notification from a contact saved as “bigggg matthew 😔”. _That’s why._

Because last night, apparently Namjoon offered Matthew a job. On tour. As his new personal trainer. And now Matthew has written to say he’d be delighted to take it, even though it’s a fucking insane offer that no one in their right mind would accept. Matthew has to be ready to put his apartment, his friends, his job, his entire _life_ on hold by this afternoon. He doesn’t even know what the pay is or how many pages of airtight NDAs he’ll have to sign. But he’s said yes, and he’s sent a selfie of himself doing rocker hands on a weight bench, because he’s already at the gym today, even though it’s 5 in the morning in Los Angeles. 

Before Namjoon can respond (because, shit, he’s _way_ too hungover to handle the one-two punch of Matthew wearing a snapback and dripping sweat), he gets another text from Matthew:

🙏🙏🙏 _srsly rm so stoked for the opportunity. ur in good hands. welcome to the world of big strength big motivation and big will. and big tiddys_ 😊

Namjoon’s years of speaking English have not prepared him for how to interpret this. He pushes down the little spring coiled in his core that threatens to burst from Matthew referring to his “tiddys.” He doesn’t have time to unpack that particular erotic revelation right now because he has to notify a manager that Namjoon has decided to hire a total stranger (and an American one at that – shit, he doesn’t even know if Matthew speaks any Korean) to join their tour and he’ll need paperwork filed and travel and accommodations handled right now, thank you very much.

To make matters worse, when he finds Sejin, he’s in Jimin’s suite, so Jimin gets to hear the entire thing. And Taehyung’s there too, because of course he is. 

Sejin’s normally level-headed and polite, but he snorts at Namjoon’s last-minute request to add someone new to their tour. He agrees to it readily enough, though, and says he and the other managers will get the paperwork together and arrange for Matthew’s travel. Namjoon can see Sejin’s shoulders shaking with laughter as he leaves the room and heads down the hallway.

When Namjoon turns back, he realizes Sejin has left him in a veritable viper’s nest. Jimin and Taehyung are looking at him with twin Cheshire cat smiles. Jimin has swung his legs over Taehyung’s thighs and he picks at the tear in Taehyung’s jeans. 

“Don’t say anything,” Namjoon warns.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything!” Jimin says back delightedly. “But if I were, I definitely wouldn’t say that it’s very interesting that you literally met this guy yesterday and now you’re offering him a job.”

“Yeah, and you definitely wouldn’t say that he’s probably hyung’s type, would you?” asks Taehyung. He leans his head on Jimin’s shoulder. “Probably muscular, probably super nice, probably straight as hell?”

The worst thing about Jimin and Taehyung, Namjoon muses to himself, is that they’re exactly as cute as they think they are. “I’m not responding to this,” he grunts. “RM has denied the request for comment.”

“He’s _huge,_ ” Jimin whispers gleefully to Taehyung. “He was like a giant puppy dog. I can’t believe hyung’s boner is a job creator.”

“I don’t have to tolerate this abuse, so I won’t,” Namjoon replies wearily. Their demonic little giggles echo in his ears all the way back to his room.

\-----------------

On travel days, Namjoon usually tries to retreat his own head. The alternative is him freaking out about logistics, worrying how they’re going to get their entire huge touring company to their new destination in one piece. He turns his phone off when they board the plane and leaves it off until he’s plopping down on his hotel bed in Chicago. 

When he turns his phone on, the first notification Namjoon sees is a message from Matthew. It’s a mirror selfie from what must be the hotel gym. It’s his torso, draped in a tank top that’s just see-through enough that Namjoon can see his nipples if he zooms in, which he does. The top frame of the picture cuts off right above Matthew’s lips. Matthew, surprisingly, has very, very well-moisturized lips.

 _You’re at the gym already?_ Namjoon replies, and gets back: _never skip chest day bro._

Even though he’s exhausted and he had zero plans to sweat this evening, Namjoon finds himself tossing on a pair of sneakers and wandering down to the gym. When he walks in he sees Matthew doing sit-ups on a yoga mat. The speakers on the floor next to him are blaring G-Dragon.

“You came!” Matthew exclaims. He thumps the mat laid out next to him. “Join me!”

“Are you sure?” Namjoon asks. “You’ve barely had a chance to settle in, and you already wanna do a session?”

“ _Hell_ yeah, dude,” Matthew replies. His neon pink hair, dark at the roots, is swept up under his backwards snapback. “Being ready is a state of mind. Client’s bod is my number one priority, so I’mma be prepared to do a session anytime. 4 am on the dancefloor, you decide you wanna do a set? I _gotchu._ ” He holds out a fist for Namjoon to bump, which he does.

As they work through ab exercises, Matthew somehow manages to keep up a steady stream of chatter despite the fact that Namjoon’s panting and pouring sweat. Normally Namjoon prefers his trainers on the quiet side but he finds Matthew’s observations charming. It’s very, very cute how excited he is that his favorite brand of protein shake is launching a new flavor.

Namjoon wheezes and tries to keep up with the conversation, and eventually Matthew takes pity on him and lets him take a break. Matthew turns onto his side on his yoga mat and stares at Namjoon. His pecs push together under his tank and there’s almost the illusion of cleavage. Namjoon only looks for five seconds. And then he glances back a few times after that, too.

“Sorry to like, talk your ear off,” Matthew says with a congenial grin. “I just don’t speak much Korean so I haven’t been able to bond with the rest of the team as much as I’d like.”

“Oh! Shit, I’m sorry!” Namjoon replies, feeling like an idiot. He just dropped this sweet, meat lover’s pizza of a man into a situation where he knew no one and didn’t even speak their primary language of communication. He’s the _worst_ boss. 

“Nah, nah, it’s good,” Matthew replies. He waves his giant hand dismissively. “I’m friendly as hell, I’ll make it work.”

“Still..." Namjoon replies, biting his lip. “I don’t want you to be lonely. A lot of the staff members that don’t work the concerts like to hang out on show nights, but they pretty much just speak Korean. I just don’t want you sitting at the hotel by yourself whenever we do a show.”

“I mean…” Matthew looks shyly at the floor. He fiddles with his rings. “I kinda thought, like. I could go to the shows? You know, check your form. Be there if you need me.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Namjoon says. “You’re basically on-call 24/7, shows are kind of your only free time.”

“Yeah, but…” Matthew shrugs and stands up from the mat. His palm, when he offers his hand to help Namjoon up, is soft and warm. It isn’t until he’s got Namjoon set up doing chest presses on a machine that he continues speaking. “I, like. _Really_ fuck with BTS, dude. You guys are sick. I do some music stuff, just for fun, but you guys? Y’all make me proud to be Korean. I wanna see you guys fuckin’ some shit up out there.”

Namjoon grins. “Yeah, we can definitely make that happen. Thanks, Matthew.”

\-----------------

During their show the next day, Namjoon looks out at the audience while he’s performing “Trivia: Love” and sees a hulking man in the sixth row wearing a Koya headband and waving two lightsticks, screaming the fanchants along with the rest of the crowd.

He checks his phone in the van back to the hotel and he has a message from Matthew:

_u looked juicy up there, dude 🍗_

Namjoon cocks his head (he knows the word “juicy,” but the context confuses him) and replies.

 **Namjoon:** haha thanks, hope you enjoyed the show :)

 **Matthew:** BROOOOOOO! u guys fuckin crushed it!!!!!!!

 **Matthew:** u could fill out ur costumes a lil more tho

 **Matthew:** like BTS should mean Big Tiddy Squad u feel me?

 **Matthew:** im just saying im gonna stop being so nice to you during our sessions ;)

 **Namjoon:** oh no!

 **Matthew:** yeah dude im gonna wreck u

 **Namjoon:** i’ll come prepared :)

 **Matthew:** ur gonna be sweating and panting tmrw

 **Matthew:** begging me 2 stop

 **Matthew:** but im just gonna push u harder 

Namjoon stares at his phone. It’s times like this that he wishes he had more formal English training, because these messages seem… Off. Matthew is sometimes hard to understand because he uses so much colloquial language. It’s probably just Matthew’s unique style of communicating. Namjoon settles on an old standby reply.

 **Namjoon:** haha yeah

\-----------------

Matthew, Namjoon learns, is a _very_ unique communicator. He has his favorite phrases, of course – the first time he said “litty,” Namjoon was absolutely baffled – but it’s not just his vocabulary that surprises Namjoon.

He sends Namjoon selfies every day – usually pictures of his abs or chest, accompanied by an inspirational caption or a black heart emoji. Namjoon supposes they’re meant to be motivational. But he’s not sure how he should respond. Should he send selfies back? Compliment Matthew’s physique? He wants to tell him the lines of his chest and stomach are beautiful, that he’s adorable when he smiles, but that all seems a little… gay. Which is the opposite of how Namjoon’s trying to appear, especially with his masc as hell personal trainer.

At first he doesn’t respond at all, but then the pictures stop coming. When Namjoon asks why (trying not to sound too put-out), Matthew apologizes profusely and says he thought he was bothering Namjoon.

“No, they… They’re nice. I like them,” Namjoon says lamely. He knows he’s blushing. Matthew grins and slaps him on the back. 

“Damn, alright, you shoulda told me you wanted more tiddy pics!” 

Namjoon jumps in alarm. “No, no, that’s not– that’s not why–” but he’s cut off by Matthew laughing.

“Alright, alright, my bad. I’ll send you ass pics instead,” he winks. He fully cackles when Namjoon turns bright red.

\-----------------

They’re about six weeks into the tour and Namjoon’s motivation has decided to go on hiatus. This always happens around this point in a tour – the exhilaration of performing has started to wear off, only to be replaced by exhaustion that clings to every muscle and tendon. He still looks forward to his sessions with Matthew, but he’s starting to dread them at the same time.

Because Matthew is… hands-on.

Matthew pays special attention to Namjoon’s chest, especially his pectorals, and most sessions involve him squeezing the muscle there with a critical eye. He rubs Namjoon’s chest after workouts to ease the soreness. Every time Matthew’s fingers pass over Namjoon’s nipples, he shivers and desperately tries not to get hard.

When Namjoon has a bad cramp in his foot and has to hobble to a bench, Matthew picks him up easily and carries him over. 

Namjoon learns that, apparently, he has extremely sensitive nipples and a strength kink. And, after Matthew offhandedly comments that Namjoon has “so much tiddy he’s gonna need a sports bra soon,” Namjoon learns that he might have a feminization kink too.

Matthew is funny and sweet and his hands feel like heaven on Namjoon’s body after a tough workout. He’s perfectly in line with Namjoon’s ideal type – except for how everything about him is so aggressively, exhaustingly straight.

Namjoon finally snaps after he receives a selfie of Matthew completely nude, with a tiny towel covering his crotch, with the caption “ _yoked_ ”. He sits there, mouth dry, hand cramping from where it’s clamped around his phone. Matthew’s stomach is taut, abdominals carved into his torso, and his thighs look powerful enough to choke Namjoon. 

Matthew _has_ to know what he’s doing, right? Is he just making fun of Namjoon?

 **Namjoon:** what the hell

 **Matthew:** sorry, am i wearing 2 much? lol 

**Namjoon:** are you mocking me?

 **Matthew:** bro of course not. i just know u want this body :)

Namjoon considers whether Matthew is flirting, but the _bro_ tips the scales in Namjoon’s mind. Matthew thinks that Namjoon wants his body – literally. As in, Namjoon wants muscles like Matthew. So he’s showing Namjoon his body as motivation.

God, Namjoon hates straight boys. Well, at least he can try to flirt back and see what happens. Can’t hurt.

 **Namjoon:** of course i want it. have you seen yourself?

 **Matthew:** don’t sell urself short dog. ur tasty af

 **Matthew:** those thighs tho

 **Namjoon:** you wanna see them?

 **Matthew:** pls pls pls plssssss 🙏🙏🙏

 **Namjoon:** _image0.png_

 **Matthew:** bruhhhhhh 

**Matthew: 🤤💯👌**

This is just getting ridiculous, Namjoon thinks to himself. Does Matthew realize what he sounds like? Should Namjoon push a little further?

 **Namjoon:** wanna come see them in person? room 402

 **Matthew:** hell yeah

 **Matthew:** imma get my hands on em

 **Matthew:** gotta make sure my fave client’s best assets are on point

Oh. That settles it, then. Matthew is just being friendly to his client. Namjoon feels stupid for even letting himself imagine that Matthew would be interested in him.

He doesn’t even expect Matthew to actually make good on his promise to come visit, which is why the knock at his door thirty minutes later takes him by complete surprise. He opens the door, half-expecting it to be Yoongi complaining about how he can hear Taehyung and Jimin fucking through the wall again. 

Instead, Matthew’s there, in a different snapback, a basketball jersey, and tight grey joggers. He’s holding two beer bottles in one hand and a takeout box in the other.

“Sorry I took so long,” he says, holding out his beer fist for Namjoon to bewilderedly pound. “Wanted to get us dinner.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Namjoon says. Matthew steps inside and once again, Namjoon is struck by how big he is, how easily he could manhandle Namjoon and toss him around.

“Your room’s dope,” Matthew says casually, assessing the decor. He plops on the bed and spreads his legs obnoxiously. Namjoon stares at the corded muscle that strains against his pants.

“So, you’re here for…?” Namjoon asks. He can feel his voice quiver a little, which feels stupid. Why is he nervous? He’s alone with Matthew all the time in hotel bedrooms. 

“What we texted about,” Matthew replies with a shark-like grin. His face, normally so open and appealingly dopey, narrows a little and his eyes look focused. His gaze settles on where Namjoon’s thighs are peeking out of his sweat shorts – the thighs he had just snapped a picture of for Matthew.

Namjoon blinks. “Right, you… wanted to come check out my thighs?”

There’s no way to say it that sounds straight. Matthew has to hear it. Maybe he didn’t get how he sounded before, over text, but now that Namjoon is verbalizing it, Matthew has to hear it and realize this has all been a misunderstanding. He’ll probably laugh, clap Namjoon on the back a little, and say “no hard feelings, but you don’t have quite enough tiddy for me, you feel me? No offense,” and it will be fine.

Instead, Matthew just nods. “Yeah, dude, bring those puppies over here.” He beckons, and Namjoon gets up and walks over, because apparently he does whatever any guy who could benchpress him tells him to do.

He stands awkwardly in front of Matthew, spine straight, hands fisted at his sides. Should he pose? Contort his muscles like a bodybuilder? His nervous internal questions are interrupted by Matthew, who reaches out and grabs Namjoon’s thighs, one in each hand. He palms them, fingertips digging in and following the lines of muscle. 

Namjoon shivers; the firm pressure of Matthews hands makes him feel exposed and vulnerable. Matthew hasn’t glanced up once – he’s just focusing on Namjoon’s thighs. His thumbs reach between them and grab at the soft fat that clings to Namjoon’s inner thighs. Namjoon tries not to twitch at how intimate it feels, being prodded at and assessed by someone. Matthew rolls his thumbs, digging in, and Namjoon has to force himself to not clamp his knees together.

Finally, hands still pressed in leaving imprints in Namjoon’s flesh, Matthew drags his gaze up from Namjoon’s thighs to his face. Namjoon _knows_ he’s blushing but he can’t make his stupid cheeks cooperate. Matthew’s just so close, his lips less than a foot from Namjoon’s crotch, and Namjoon feels like he’s a frog that just realized he’s boiling alive.

“Good shit,” Matthew says approvingly, and he slaps his palm lightly against the side of Namjoon’s thigh. Namjoon flinches, letting out a long, ragged breath that feels too loud in the room. He turns to grab the takeout container but Matthew stops him with a hand on his stomach.

“Gotta make sure your flexibility’s on point, though,” he says. Namjoon nods, knees weak, and sits down on the carpet in front of Matthew.

He doesn’t understand what’s going on. Yes, he understands the Korean meaning of all the words that Matthew’s saying, and his body seems to be obeying without any issue. But as Namjoon spreads his thighs apart, straight-legged, and bends at the waist to demonstrate his flexibility, he feels clueless. Why did Matthew text him like that? Why did he bring food, if he’s just here to test Namjoon’s fitness? _Why_ is he just sitting there, watching Namjoon with a smirk?

“Bro,” Matthew drawls. “You can do better than that. Come on.” He slinks off the bed – surprisingly agile considering he’s so bulky – and knees between Namjoon’s splayed legs. He jerks his chin at Namjoon commandingly. “C’mon, on your back.”

When a guy as sweet and as jacked as Matthew tells Namjoon to lie on his back, he lies on his fucking back.

Namjoo’s stomach is a wriggling ball of snakes. And knots. Snakes tied in knots. He doesn’t know what’s happening and there’s a buzzing in his ears and oh, shit, Matthew has just grabbed his thigh and pushed it up against his chest. Namjoon doesn’t have to glance down to know that his loose shorts have left his thighs completely on display and he squirms, terrified he’ll let out a telling noise.

Matthew braces Namjoon’s thigh against one meaty shoulder and leans in close, hands pressed to the floor on either side of Namjoon’s shoulders, forcing Namjoon’s muscles pliant to accommodate the stretch. 

“Is this chill?” Matthew asks softly. Namjoon doesn’t know what “this” refers to – the stretch in his muscle? The _obviously_ homoerotic pose they’re in? – but he nods anyway.

There’s a slight, almost imperceptible burn in his tendons, and Namjoon’s heart is going double-time. His chest is heaving and his thighs are shaking and he can’t look anywhere other than Matthew’s big, gorgeous puppy dog eyes. He’s pinned to the ground under Matthew’s weight and he can’t _do_ anything, couldn’t push him off if he tried, and all that raw power focused on him is making Namjoon’s breath catch and his nipples pebble visibly under his thin t-shirt. 

Matthew’s eyes slip down to Namjoon’s chest.

“Yooooooo,” he whispers, bringing one hand up to grab Namjoon’s pec firmly. Namjoon squeaks as Matthew starts to _massage_ , digging his knuckles into the muscle above his nipple then sneaking below to cup the whole pec, pushing it up. His thumb keeps catching on Namjoon’s nipple. It can’t be accidental, except apparently it can. The rhythm of his hand causes hot streaks of fire to race through Namjoon’s nerves and he bites his lip so he doesn’t moan wantonly at the pressure. His cock is steadily hardening, and each brush of Matthew’s thumb just makes it worse.

“Damn, Joon, your tiddies have gotten so fire, dude,” Matthew says admiringly. He knocks Namjoon’s leg down off his shoulder so it wraps around his waist instead so he can take advantage of Namjoon’s newly-accessible other pectoral. His hand is warm through Namjoon’s t-shirt and Namjoon feels deliciously trapped, pinned to the floor with two hands on his chest. 

Matthew keeps making approving noises as he rubs down Namjoon’s muscles, fingers just slightly avoiding his nipples each time. Namjoon isn’t sure to be grateful for that, because his cock is already hard in his shorts and it’s taking all his energy to hold in his whimpers. 

Just when he thinks Matthew’s done with his inspection and finally let him go, Matthew pushes his pecs together until a divot forms between the muscle, tweaks both nipples _hard_ , and says “nice tits, babe,” with a laugh. 

The arrow on the gauge in Namjoon’s head labeled ‘IS THIS SITUATION GAY’ suddenly flips from ‘N’ to ‘Y’.

Namjoon keens, back arching up off the carpet, and draws his other leg up involuntarily so he’s wrapped around Matthew, yanking him down to drag their groins together. Matthew cocks one eyebrow, fingers still mercilessly teasing Namjoon’s nipples, and glances down at where Namjoon’s rock-hard cock is digging into his hip. Even in the loose shorts, it’s making its presence known.

“That’s what’s up,” Matthew says with a grin, then he rolls his hips down against Namjoon’s and kisses him sloppily, open mouths slotted together and tongues licking against each other. Namjoon shudders against him and and kisses back, pushing Matthew’s snapback off to tangle his fingers in his soft hair. 

Matthew’s hips are powerful and the pressure of his weight is intoxicating; Namjoon’s breaths come quicker and shallower as they rock together. Matthew’s lips are velvety soft and nimble too – he mouths and bites at Namjoon’s lower lip then presses kisses down his jawline and back up to his mouth. The hot, wet press of his tongue is dizzying. Namjoon hasn’t been kissed this thoroughly in _months_.

Namjoon pets a hand down Matthew’s rippling back and groans into his mouth at the solid wall of muscle he finds there. The deep laugh that rumbles out of Matthew’s chest just makes him weaker for him, hips rocking upwards to get some friction on his cock from Matthew’s ridiculous thigh muscles.

“God, you’re big,” Namjoon moans, and whines when Matthew stops kissing him to say, “You can call me Big Matthew in bed if you want.”

Namjoon stares at him, taken aback. Matthew shrugs. “Brand integration is important.”

“If I call you Big Matthew, will you start bench pressing me?”

Matthew laughs, but his expression turns thoughtful when he sees Namjoon bite his lip hopefully. “Nah, but…” he trails off. Then he leans back on his knees, scoops Namjoon around the waist, and tosses him up and onto the hotel bed. Namjoon bounces, stunned and unbelievably turned on and harder than he can ever remember.

“You like that I’m strong and shit, don’t you?” Matthew asks, clambering up onto the bed and tugging his shirt off. 

“Was I too obvious?” Namjoon replies. He gestures at his boner currently trying to pop a seam in his shorts. 

“Dude!” Matthew says with a low whistle. He grabs Namjoon’s waistband and tugs the shorts and Namjoon’s boxers down and off. Namjoon’s dick slaps wetly up against his stomach, precome beading at the tip, shaft red and straining. 

“Bro,” Matthew says, staring reverently at Namjoon’s penis. “Your dick is, like. Eggplant emoji. They should call you Big Namjoon.”

“Oh?” Namjoon says faintly, a little distracted now that Matthew’s decided to start cheerfully jerking him off.

“Yeah, man, your hog is huge. Look!” Matthew exclaims. Namjoon blinks to focus and looks down to see Matthew’s fist working furiously to slide up and down to cover his whole cock. Matthew’s bicep bulges and Namjoon feels a little light-headed. 

“Thanks?” Namjoon replies. His hips jerk up into Matthew’s hand, even though he wishes Matthew would slick his hand with something, make the tight slide of his hand a little wetter. 

“Bro, I’m sorry,” Matthew says, releasing Namjoon’s dick. Namjoon gapes up at him, cock aching for more friction. “My bad. The fried chicken’s gonna get cold. But like, you gotta fuck me, dude, like right now. I’ve never seen a penis this pretty in my life. This is like, the Instagram baddie of penises.”

Namjoon’s eyes feel like they’re half the size of his face. His mouth is hanging wide open. Matthew waits a few seconds for him to respond, then sheepishly continues, “I mean, we don’t have to fuck at all, it’s cool. Or like I could blow you or whatever. This is just like… This is a _choice_ dick, you know?” He trails one tan finger down Namjoon’s shaft and Namjoon whimpers, trying to thrust against him.

“Um, no, that’s,” Namjoon licks his lips, his mastery of English rapidly failing. “That’s totally fine. I can… I can do that for you.” 

“Dope,” Matthew grins, holding his hand out for another fist bump. Namjoon meets it weakly. “I can also fuck _you_ after we have the chicken, if you want,” Matthew says, tugging down his joggers while Namjoon slowly pulls off his shirt in a daze. “Oh, Joon – meet Lil Matthew.”

Matthew points down between his legs to his own dick, nestled in a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair. It’s a bit smaller than average, especially in comparison to his massive frame and huge thighs, and it’s flushed pink and swollen. 

“Hi, Lil Matthew,” Namjoon says. Matthew walks forward on his knees until he can push their dicks together and hold them in one giant palm. His cock barely comes up halfway on Namjoon’s. 

“Look at that,” Matthew says approvingly. “Yeah, I’m sitting on that motherfucker. Where’s your shit?”

“Uh…” Namjoon blinks, still staring blearily at the cute comparison Matthew’s sweet little cock makes against his admittedly huge specimen. “The bathroom. My toiletries bag.”

By the time Matthew trots back and sits on the bed, Namjoon’s managed to grab his phone and started playing his (sadly, underutilized) sex playlist. Matthew gently pushes him back onto the pillows and Namjoon looks up to see that Matthew has regained his snapback. Matthew shrugs. “Keeps the hair out of my eyes,” he says, grinning cheekily. 

Matthew swivels and then straddles Namjoon’s hips so he’s facing his feet, ass perched on Namjoon’s stomach.

It’s, objectively speaking, a great ass. Namjoon had never noticed before, because he’d always been busy staring at the rest of Matthew, but it’s thick and muscular and it has a cute tan line ending just below his cheeks.

“I know what you’re thinking. Big Matthew got _cake_ , though, right? Help a homie out?” Matthew says as he slicks his fingers up and reaches behind himself. Namjoon grabs his ass with both hands, groaning at the plush curvature under his fingers, and spreads him open. Six weeks ago, if you had told Namjoon he’d hear dirty talk like _that_ in bed, he would’ve cringed, but now it just turns him on even more. 

Matthew grunts, taut forearm working, as he steadily presses his finger inside himself. His hole clings to his finger, seemingly drawing it in. Namjoon tentatively reaches up and runs a finger along Matthew’s rim, exhaling at how soft the furled skin is. 

“Yup,” Matthew says loudly, tugging at his rim until the tip of Namjoon’s finger slips inside alongside his own. “For _sure_ , dude. For sure, for sure, for sure.”

Namjoon takes the lube and squirts a big glob of it right onto Matthew’s hole, letting it drip down to coat the rest of his fingers, and pushes his finger fully inside. The booming bass of the music clearly does it for Matthew, and he starts rocking his hips to the rhythm while sinking their joined fingers deeper inside of him.

A couple songs later, Namjoon’s got four fingers deep inside Matthew, rotating his wrist to stretch him open. He has to hold Matthew’s hip with his other hand because he keeps trying to pop his ass to the music. 

After he pulls his fingers out of Matthew’s ass, Matthew turns back around and smiles appreciatively down at Namjoon’s chest. He reaches out and cups a pec again, rolling the nipple between his fingertips, as he settles himself down on Namjoon’s dick, slowly pushing until the head pops inside.

“There’s those tiddies I missed,” Matthew says cheerfully. Namjoon moans in response, feeling sparks pop behind his eyelids at the tight, wet, velvety squeeze compressing around his cock. When Namjoon accidentally hitches his hips upwards the tiniest bit, Matthew groans, eyebrows wrinkling in pain. When Namjoon asks him worriedly if he’s okay, he throws up a ‘hang loose’ sign. 

Matthew squares his shoulders and then _bounces_ down, that’s the only way to describe it, drawing more of Namjoon inside him with these miniscule little jumps of his hips, steady working his thighs so that each second there’s a new sensation, each second Namjoon is either gasping at the warmth or whimpering as Matthew pulls back up. He doesn’t stop moving, just keeps rocking his hips in time to the beat, as he slowly but surely takes more of Namjoon’s length, mouth dropping open with exertion. He keeps grunting, deep and guttural, like it helps him handle the pain.

“Joon, _fuck,"_ Matthew groans, “You’re, like. You’re all up in there.”

“You’re amazing,” Namjoon replies. It just slips out of him, tugged free by the pleasure skittering under his skin. Matthew grins at him, big and bright and brilliant, and bears down one final time until his ass is pressed flush to Namjoon’s hips, cock buried all the way inside his heat.

Matthew dabs. 

Namjoon bursts out laughing but it’s immediately lost in a deep moan when Matthew pulses around him and rises up, thighs bulging, only to drop back down. He keeps toying with Namjoon’s nipple, pinching and teasing it until Namjoon whines. It feels good, but it’s almost too good when paired with how tight Matthew is.

The song transitions into something a little more uptempo, with horns and a hypnotic melody line, and Matthew crows “oh _shit!_ ” and starts pumping his thighs, rocking up and down until the slick glide of Namjoon’s cock is audible. 

“Bro, this slaps,” Matthew moans. “Who sings this?”

“I’m– ah– I’m not sure,” Namjoon grits out. He can feel sweat trickling down his temples and his hands are shaking where they’re gripping Matthew’s powerful thighs.

“It’s cool, it’s cool. I’mma Shazam it,” Matthew says, grabbing his phone from the pocket of his discarded sweats lying next to him on the bed. He shushes Namjoon and holds up his phone, grinning in delight and showing the identified result. Namjoon thinks hysterically that Matthew’s personal workout regimen must be insane because he has not stopped fucking _bouncing_ this entire time.

Matthew keeps grooving, dancing a little to the music as he rides Namjoon’s cock, but when the next song is darker and moodier he sinks all the way down and just swivels, letting Namjoon fill him completely.

Namjoon whines and bites his lip, overwhelmed by the inexorable pressure. “Fuck, fuck, Matthew, you feel so good,” he pants, unable to stop his hips from jerking off the bed. They can’t get far, trapped under Matthew’s considerable bulk, but he earns a punched-out gasp from Matthew.

Matthew laughs sweetly. “Dude, you know I don’t speak Korean.”

Namjoon opens his eyes blearily. “Sorry, was that… not in English?”

“Nope,” Matthew says proudly. 

“Oh, it was just me saying how good you feel– _fuck!_ ” Namjoon moans, thrusting up again as Matthew decides (rather unfairly) to twist both his nipples at once while clenching hard around his cock. 

“Keep doing that,” Matthew orders, rolling his pelvis in a slow, dirty grind to match Namjoon’s thrust. Namjoon thrusts up with all his strength and Matthew actually yelps, falling forward to land flush against Namjoon’s chest. He leans forward and brushes their mouths together in a kiss.

“Dude, your dick is, like, straight _vibing_ with my hole,” Matthew whispers into Namjoon’s mouth. “Like, it’s giving my prostate daps right now. Fuck yeah.”

Namjoon smiles, and the plush drag of their lips against each other just makes him lean in to suck Matthew’s tongue into his mouth. Matthew’s warm and firm and solid on top of him, like the world’s most erotic weighted blanket, and he’s never smiled or laughed so much during sex before. It’s comforting. It’s easy.

Namjoon can’t stop himself from grinding faster and faster into Matthew, making him shiver against his chest, and he doesn’t realize he’s approaching his orgasm until he’s right up at the cliff’s edge, barrelling over the side and free-falling into sticky satisfaction. His mind goes blank and he comes for what feels like forever, Matthew’s hole clenching him tight and thorough until he’s all spent and he’s panting into Matthew’s open mouth. 

When he stops shaking, Matthew’s looking at him thoughtfully while he tugs at his own shaft.

“You realize I’m gonna have to nut on your tits, right?” Matthew asks matter-of-factly. 

Namjoon grins weakly, still feeling that little coil of heat in his stomach at hearing his body being talked about in that way, and nods. He brings his hands up to push his pectorals together as much as he can, creating a little dip Matthew can use for target practice, and whimpers when Matthew eases up and off his dick to knee-walk up to his torso. 

Namjoon lets go of his chest with one hand and slips two fingers up between Matthew’s cheeks and inside him, pressing until he finds his prostate and Matthew emits a throaty groan. Matthew grabs the pec that Namjoon released, fingers digging in so deep the skin around them turns white.

The wet noises of Matthew’s hand over his dick speed up, making him arch his back and ride Namjoon’s fingers harder, and soon he’s gasping and swearing and his hand blurs over the tip of his dick. The first drops of come, when they spatter on Namjoon’s chest, feel warm and thick and dirty, like he’s just an object for Matthew to get off on. He whimpers through the rest of the load, feeling it drip down his chest towards his clavicle. 

Matthew rolls off him with a thump that somehow shakes the entire mattress. He pants, muscular chest heaving, then grabs tissues from the nightstand to wipe them down. 

After they’re clean-ish, he gets up and wanders over to the table to grab the take-out container, then feeds Namjoon cold fried chicken and french fries with a sappy grin on his face. Namjoon keeps laughing, which makes Matthew laugh, and then they’re just cuddled together in a cocoon of warm sheets, trading slow languorous kisses, food forgotten next to them. 

“I hope it’s chill to say that, like, I really fuck with you, Namjoon,” Matthew murmurs. “Like, obviously I do, because you’re smart and accomplished, but, I don’t know… I fuck with your _soul_ too, you know?”

It’s somehow both completely incoherent, like most of what Matthew says, but also unbelievably profound. Namjoon’s probably grinning like an idiot right now. He doesn’t care. He never thought happiness could come in a package like this, a ridiculous package that’s earnest and sweet and kind of inscrutable. Tomorrow will bring schedules and insanity but for tonight he’s content in Matthew’s big arms.

“I fuck with your soul too, Matthew,” he says fondly. “I’m glad we met.”

Matthew snorts. “I was so embarrassing, oh my god. I’m sure I came on way too strong, hitting on you while you were just trying to get gains.”

“You were… hitting on me?” Namjoon asks. A warm little laugh bubbles out of him.

“Um, yeah,” Matthew says. “I was worried I was too obvious. And you give off, like, majorly misleading straight vibes.” He shakes his head, sadly. “Couldn’t be me.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments and kudos genuinely make my day (i get giddy every time i get an ao3 email) so if you enjoyed this, please let me know!
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/kumnamjoon1)


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